


Different

by FancyMeetingYouHere



Category: GOT7
Genre: Boku no Hero Academia inspired, GOT7 has quircks, Got7 Family, High School AU, M/M, just schoolboys, no heroes or villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyMeetingYouHere/pseuds/FancyMeetingYouHere
Summary: Jackson is the quirckless newcomer and his new group of friends might just teach him a thing or two about that. Especially that one boy everyone keeps staring at. Jackson included.(GOT7 has quircks/powers and the usual teenage drama.)
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 46
Kudos: 181





	Different

Jackson _cannot_ stop staring.

It’s his first day and he’d been expecting to be the one being stared _at_ (being the new kid and all who transferred in the middle of the year), but now he finds himself being the one _staring._ His first class of the day went well with minimum awkwardness, but then he raced the hallways to find his AP English classroom and- wow.

The most beautiful boy on the planet is sitting diagonally in the row in front of him. Jackson spotted him the second he walked in, though the boy has a habit of hanging his head or hiding his face behind his hands, only his eyes peeking out. But Jackson’s eyes are drawn to the fluffy, dirty-blond hair that’s in a gorgeous state of disarray, as well as the almond shaped eyes. Whenever he catches a glimpse of the full lips and cheekbones apparently drawn by a god himself, he snaps his eyes back to the teacher with a parched throat.

He feels out of control, his own body betraying him time and again as he keeps stealing glances. Nearing the end of class he feels both wondrous and awful. The boy is stunning, but Jackson hates how he’s been _ogling_ the guy this entire time. It feels wrong and sneaky. Hormones or no, he shouldn’t be acting like a creep.

When the bell finally rings to signal the first break, he solemnly swears to himself he’ll leave the poor guy alone for the day, and if he ever does it again, Jackson will have no choice but to approach him and confess. Hopefully, the embarrassment of that thought will be enough to make him _stop._

 _Seriously,_ he berates himself as he quickly slips out of class, _get a damn grip!_

The prospect of lunch gives him enough of a distraction to throw the incident to the back of his thoughts. The cafeteria is packed, but not to the point of suffocating. Keeping an eye out for Jinyoung, the guy he met in biology and who promised to show him around, he slowly makes his way past all sorts of groups.

Quircks run abundant in this school as well.

The familiar sting of being one of the few left without anything special is barely a surprise at this point when Jackson spots a girl literally defying gravity and sitting on a wall, laughing at her friend who’s blowing soft snowflakes into the air. There are some sparks from a fire quirck a little further down, though using that blatantly inside is forbidden.

Oh well, teenagers and all that.

Jackson tries to keep his head down while simultaneously not looking too sad. No need to attract whatever bullies float around to his quirckless ass first thing. In a stroke of luck, he catches the back of a familiar sweater, Jinyoung sitting on the floor in a corner of the cafeteria with a few other boys. The one sitting in the corner with straight black hair and a nose-piercing frowns when he spots Jackson approach, tapping Jinyoung’s shoulder. Jackson sags in relief when Jinyoung turns and breaks out into a smile, hand waving him closer.

“Jackson!” he introduces when they’re finally within speaking distance. “These are Youngjae, Jaebeom, Yugyeom and BamBam.” He points out the boys one by one, getting careful smiles and, in the case of the last one, an enthusiastic wave. He does his best to look confident.

“Hey,” he waves with a smile. “Can I join?”

Jinyoung is already nodding, scooting to clear a space for him on the floor. They’re all sitting in a make-shift circle, their lunch gathered in between. After another encouraging nod, Jackson drops himself between Jinyoung and Yugyeom. The latter grins at him.

“You new here?”

“Yeah,” Jackson answers with heat rising to his ears. Yugyeom’s grin stays friendly, but he nods knowingly.

“It’s okay,” he glances at the rest. “We sort of all know what that’s like.”

Jackson looks around the circle to see nodding heads, shooting a questioning glance at Jinyoung. The guy shrugs.

“I guess you could say we tend to adopt the strays,” he smiles. “Yugyeom and BamBam showed up last year, and Youngjae at the beginning of this one.”

Ah. Jackson slowly nods then bites his lip, nerves chasing away his previous hunger. “Why ‘adopt’?” He glances around again. “Is that uhm, necessary?”

This time it’s the black-haired boy who answers, Jaebeom as Jackson now knows. “That depends on you,” he says icily, eyes narrowed to slits and focused on Jackson. It sends a shiver down his spine, fear spiking in his gut.

Jinyoung tuts at Jaebeom. “Tone it down, would yah. My tea’s getting cold.”

Jackson blinks in shock when the cold seeps away, Jaebeom rolling his eyes. “I’m just doing a quick check,” he mumbles.

“Check?” Jackson wonders, this time receiving a response from the tiny boy on Jaebeom’s other side. BamBam, Jackson reminds himself.

“Whether you’re like him,” he says sagely, nodding at the sparking boy at the other side of the cafeteria. Jackson gulps when a flame shoots up out of nowhere, clamping an unconscious hand around his left upper arm.

“Oh,” he answers faintly, turning back to five expectant faces. He gulps. “Not really.”

Jaebeom narrows his eyes again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” Jackson rushes, only now realizing how they could’ve taken that wrong. He brings up his hands in an I’m-innocent pose. “No fire, I promise.”

Yugyeom hums, casting a gaze on Jackson in an entirely too interested manner. “So, what _is_ your quirck?”

“Yeah,” BamBam pipes up, and Jackson does a double-take, blinking furiously at the mop of shockingly white hair. Wasn’t BamBam’s hair brown a minute ago? The boy grins at him.

“Cool, huh?”

Jinyoung huffs. “It’s a neat party-trick.” Then he holds out a hand, a smirk directed at BamBam’s pout when Jinyoung’s aforementioned tea gently floats into his hand.

“No fair,” the little boy mumbles, his hair turning a depressing black.

Jackson finds himself giggling a little, then feels cold creeping up his back and his eyes snap to Jaebeom. The other’s hands are hissing ever so faintly.

“What can you do?” he says more like a demand than a question.

The cold sweat breaks out without Jaebeom’s help, Jackson floundering to find either an adequate excuse or a good enough lie. When his panic goes on for too long, Jaebeom’s eyebrows go up and a so far unheard voice softly comments.

“It’s okay if you don’t have one.” Youngjae smiles sweetly at Jackson’s no doubt red face, the words freezing him before he catches the nervous wringing of Youngjae’s hands. The boy shrugs. “I don’t have one,” he confesses.

The mood grows even colder, Jaebeom shifting ever so slightly to place a protective hand on Youngjae’s knee. Jinyoung speaks up seriously from beside Jackson.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Jackson wants to cry, but he settles for a watery smile. “You’re quirckless too?” he whispers at Youngjae, ignoring all the animosity going on around him. The boy smiles humorlessly, nodding his head. This time Jackson ducks his head to wipe away a quick tear, sniffing when a warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

Jinyoung’s voice is kind. “Stick with us, okay? Then no one’s gonna come after you.”

“How did you-” he starts confused, then spots the sympathetic expressions around him, even Jaebeom doing a complete one-eighty.

“So, your former school,” the black-haired boy starts carefully. “You transferring in the middle of the year?”

Jackson nods, biting his lip. He rubs his left arm again, grateful when they all give him the time. “Things got out of hand,” he tells them eventually.

“I see,” Jaebeom says tersely, then releases a sigh. “Well, in that case. Welcome to the family.”

Jackson blinks at them all, Yugyeom and BamBam giving him finger guns while the rest simply smile. “The family?” he repeats dumbly, then frowns. “You guys take this whole adopting thing a little far, no?”

Yugyeom cackles, nudging his shoulder. “Jinyoung is your mom and Jaebeom’s your dad now,” he grins to the annoyance of said boys, the latter employing a vicious eye-roll. Yugyeom grins more when he sees Jackson’s utterly confused expression.

“Don’t worry,” BamBam adds. “You’ll get used to having four new siblings in no time. We’re awesome!”

“Debatable,” Jinyoung smiles at him, receiving a stuck-out tongue.

Jackson does the math again and waves a hand. “Wait, four?” He counts them out with his finger and quirks an eyebrow. “Who’s the fourth?”

They all fall silent, then Jaebeom lets out a bark of laughter. He shakes his head as the others snigger and Jackson finds a confused smile on his own face, the joke still lost on him.

“What?” he glances around. “What am I missing?”

“You have _got_ to be the first,” BamBam giggles, “to _not_ notice him.”

“Who!” Jackson says louder, trying but failing to spot a whole new person. That is, until a low voice comes from directly behind Jaebeom, the ‘dad’ still smiling and shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, he noticed me.”

Finally, Jackson can see what all the commotion is about when Jaebeom leans to the side, craning his neck to look behind him. His stomach drops when he recognizes the large grey hoodie, hood up this time, and nothing but eyes peeking out over a pair of slim hands. The boy is hunched in on himself, having been sitting behind Jaebeom’s broader shoulders.

Jaebeom frowns at the new non-face. “You’ve been hiding since before he showed up. How exactly was he supposed to notice?”

Jackson begs the deities, the stars, _everything,_ for this hot guy to give him a break. After the initial protectiveness he was just presented with, he doesn’t know how ‘mom and dad’ will respond to him ogling their quote-unqoute son for the majority of English.

His wish is dashed when the voice rumbles once more. “We have English together. He kept staring.”

Jackson drops his head and covers it, groaning into his knees as he realizes how that sounds. Excuse after excuse flits through his mind, but the truth of the matter is that he _did_ stare. Whoever this guy is, Jackson ogled him within an inch of his life, and now, they all know about it.

_Joy._

The expected anger and resentment stays away, a sudden poke from his right side accompanied by Yugyeom’s voice. “You okay?”

The new voice joins in again, apologetic this time. “I’m not mad, it’s okay.”

Jinyoung sighs. “Jackson, would you look up? We all know Mark’s gorgeous, but that’s no reason to hide like a child.”

The words draw a snappy ‘no I’m not’ from this apparent gorgeous Mark, and Jackson carefully lifts his head, mind spinning. He’s met with understanding expressions, BamBam’s hair a soft red as he smiles sweetly. Jaebeom has moved to the side, his arm still in the process of dragging Mark into their little circle. The other is both resisting and helping, his hands still in front of his face, but his feet shuffling somewhat into the right direction.

It looks adorable and Jackson’s cheeks heat up for the second time in ten minutes.

“We know,” Youngjae grins. “Mark’s the cutest.”

Said boy shoots a glare at Youngjae, one foot coming out to swipe at him. It’s all in jest as Youngjae drops on Yugyeom in laughter, yelling a quick succession of ‘sorry’s’.

Mark’s eyes find Jackson when the former has finally joined to Jaebeom’s satisfaction. BamBam and Yugyeom dig back into their lunch, Jinyoung joining with a little more grace.

“Sorry,” Jackson fumbles out, thinking Mark might be laughing when his eyes turn into crescent moons. He blushes harder.

“Not your fault,” Jaebeom promises him, snatching his sandwich away with a glare at BamBam, the boy’s hands having been wandering a little too close. He turns back to Jackson, then his eyes cut to Mark and he elbows the other. Mark glares at him then rolls his eyes.

“It’s my utterly useless quirck,” he snarks. “You’ll probably keep staring, but if you stick around with us then the novelty will wear off. Long exposure builds up tolerance, I guess.”

Jackson’s possibly more confused. “Your quirck is making people stare at you?”

Youngjae starts laughing, even Jinyoung sniggers into his sandwich as Jaebeom rolls his eyes once again mid-chew and pokes Mark some more. The interaction seems almost automatic at this point, Mark barely reacting before he sighs and explains.

“You think I’m hot, right?” he poses bluntly.

Jackson can barely hold in his terrified squeak at being called out, his face steaming as he tries and fails to look away from Mark’s piercing eyes. The other takes his rather sudden case of tongue-tied as an affirmative. He’s not wrong.

“It’s my quirck. I look perfect to you, or more like your perfect type. It’s different for everyone. You can’t help it. No one can.”

That’s … _new._ Jackson blinks, wondering if they’re pranking him, but the rest nod along to Mark’s words, their lunches still quietly disappearing. Jackson blinks again.

“Huh,” he manages, then forces the gears in his head to start working no matter the heat that’s burning his cheeks. So, apparently his perfect type is slim hands, pouty lips and almond eyes. Good to know. “But then-” he pauses again, noticing he still has Mark’s attention. He clears his throat and battles on. “What I see, is not what they see?” he gestures at the others, Jaebeom already nodding before Mark is. The other decides to take over, swallowing his mouthful and jabbing a thumb at Mark.

“He looks different to everyone, though he stays the same age and more or less the same height. But everything else is up for interpretation; face, limbs, hands, even-” This time Mark jabs an elbow in Jaebeom’s side, furiously hissing.

“Yes, _thank you,_ Jaebeom. I think he gets it.”

And he does, at least, mostly. But Jackson’s thoughts still stumble when he catches sight of Mark’s face behind the hands. The other truly is stunning, even when he’s glaring at a barely apologetic Jaebeom. Jackson quickly averts his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says again.

Mark frowns at him. “It’s not-”

“No,” Jackson interrupts him, focused intently on the cream tiles making up the floor. “I’m sorry, I mean- it can’t be easy just having everyone gawking at you all the time. And I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I also don’t think I can stop.” His face is red again, he just knows it.

After a heavy pause Jaebeom pipes up merrily. “You know what, I like him.”

For some reason that’s hilarious to Jinyoung, even Yugyeom joining in after a second. The joke goes right over Jackson’s head, but the rest of the break is spent in high spirits, even Mark giving the occasional comment.

Jackson may be quirckless, but for the first time in his life, it doesn’t define him as much as he feared.

* * *

The sky is overcast, no rain yet but a constant threat in the layers of grey hanging in the sky. It has the upside of ensuring the people around the bleachers are nearing on none. Jackson has noticed that, when possible, Mark prefers to be away from people. With the way their classmates outright stare at him, Jackson doesn’t blame him.

The field used for outdoor gym class stretches below, the oval tracks currently being put to good use by Yugyeom. The boy has a speed-quirck as Jackson has learned, and he’s nothing but a blur as he completes at least a dozen laps in ten seconds. BamBam stands cheering at the side, his hair flashing the rainbow colors whenever Yugyeom passes by. They’re in their own world and Jackson grins.

“Does running actually help Yugyeom in losing some of his energy, or is he just as bad afterward?” he turns to Mark sitting next to him, the both of them having found a comfortable spot on the bleachers with their English books spread out.

Mark shrugs, his hood up and a mask covering his nose and mouth today. “It’s not all that clear,” he says softly. “It makes him happy anyway.”

 _Good enough_ , Jackson thinks. He turns back to the questions Mark just explained. As good as Jackson is at languages, and especially English, Mark’s help is greatly appreciated. The boy turned out to be a native speaker, meaning Jackson finally has someone to explain things to him besides teachers who are overworked as is. The fact the other agreed to tutor him in their free hour still amazes Jackson. Mark doesn’t like being around others for long, or being the center of attention. It makes what he does for Jackson even more special.

“Thank you,” he tells Mark again, out of the blue.

He gets a deadpan look in response. “That’s number twenty-three. For _today._ ”

Jackson shrugs. “I’m really grateful.”

“It’s fine,” Mark assures him. “I don’t mind.” He focuses on Yugyeom and BamBam jumping around down on the field, the latter apparently having reached a new record. “You’re good with them, Youngjae too. Not a lot of people are, or even try to be.”

Which is weird, though it’s something Jackson’s been understanding better the past three weeks. “It’s not like it’s difficult,” he still counters with a huff. “Besides, none of you have a problem with me being quirckless, so why wouldn’t I try?”

Mark sends him a look Jackson can’t decipher because most of it is hidden. The only thing he’s sure of is that the other is smiling. Mark’s eyes are becoming easier to read for Jackson the more he sees them, though the novelty has yet to wear off. He told Mark this last week, somewhat shamefully, but was assured it can take longer. (A part of him wonders how anyone _ever_ gets over Mark, his heart racing even without seeing the other’s face.)

When Mark keeps staring Jackson can feel his cheeks heat up. He scratches his neck and glances down. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mark says in such a way Jackson is convinced he’s grinning behind his facemask. Then Mark scoots closer, tapping the page. “Which tense is this?”

Jackson snorts as he looks, quirking an eyebrow at Mark. “Past continuous, that’s too easy.”

Mark does the eye-smile again. “It’s only easy because you’re smart, Jackson.”

He grins, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach at hearing Mark say his name. It’s the quirck, he knows, but ignoring the feelings is still difficult. It’s probably a good thing he’s never seen Mark’s actual smile. With the way his heart is already out of control, Jackson doubts he’d survive that.

“How about this one,” Mark says happily, finger pointing at a sentence all the way down the page. As Jackson leans over to look at it, his shoulder bumping Mark’s as he does, a shout comes from down on the field. This one sounds neither joyful nor whiny. Jackson snaps his head up when he catches the fear in it, sensing Mark doing the same.

Yugyeom is down on the grass, holding his hand and grimacing. With all his tiny height, BamBam is standing in front of him, his hair a vibrant and angry red.

“Shit,” Mark hisses hoarsely, “Taewon.”

Who, as Jackson learned in his first week, has a somewhat personal vendetta against anything and everything. It might depend on the moon, or the temperature, but the boy’s mood is as fickle as the flames he controls. Jackson jumps up at the same time Mark does, three other figures circling BamBam and Yugyeom down below.

“They wouldn’t really-” Jackson croaks, then flinches when Taewon’s fire shoots out at BamBam, the boy ducking with a frightened scream. Mark’s running before Jackson can regain command over his body, meaning he’s at least ten steps behind.

“Taewon!” Mark yells as he hits the field and Jackson pumps his legs to go faster, knees on fire as he runs down the steps two at a time. Mark’s intervention saves BamBam and Yugyeom from another shot of fire, Taewon’s eyes shooting up.

Jackson hates the grin on Taewon’s face when he sees Mark. It’s cold and hungry, the boy literally licking his lips. The day may be devoid of sunshine, but Jackson’s suddenly on fire, fists balled as he too reaches the field and races to catch up with Mark.

His friend has made it to YugBam, standing one step in front of them as Taewon’s lackeys fell back to form a line behind their leader. They all hold the same hungry grin, no one interested in BamBam or Yugyeom anymore.

It’s disgusting.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Jackson shouts as loud as he can, shooting up beside Mark and unable to help the hand he puts on the other’s arm. Some of the attention shifts to him and he gives his best glare to Taewon, determined to keep it there.

Taewon huffs. “Like I’m scared of some quirckless nobody.” His brows rise and he smiles. “Especially when JJP is nowhere to be found!”

“Jackson,” Mark hisses, “back off.”

“Not a chance,” he shoots back, eyes never leaving Taewon. Then he makes his voice louder. “BamBam, Yugyeom, you guys alright?”

A pained hiss comes from behind, then BamBam’s sharp voice. “He burned Yuggie’s hand!”

Mark snaps his head back to look, but Jackson keeps his eyes firmly on the sadistic smirk some five steps away. How he _hates_ fire-quircks.

“Oops,” Taewon shrugs. “Guess he’s not that fast after all.”

That’s it. Jackson snarls, taking a step forward which he logically knows will be useless because at least one of his lackeys can control roots and they’re currently standing on a field, but Mark suddenly pulls a reverse-uno on him and yanks him back so that _Mark_ is the one blocking _Jackson_.

Then Mark takes off his hood and face-mask.

Jackson makes the mistake of stepping around to face his friend, an angry outburst dying in his throat when he sees the full image up close. Mark’s quirck truly is terrifying in its beauty, the other ethereal even under the greyness of the sky. The cold look on his face does nothing to dampen the effect, and Jackson stumbles in place as dark eyes stare with an intensity he wasn’t ready for, Mark’s mouth set in a line and his jaw tense in anger. His dirty-blond hair is styled today, looping away from his forehead and swaying in the tiny gusts of wind floating around.

Jackson forgets what’s happening, simply staring, then Mark yanks on his sleeve, yelling at them all to run. He has BamBam in his other hand, the smaller boy dragging Yugyeom with him. They clear the field in seconds, an angry bellow only sounding out when they’re already halfway back to the school. Jackson wants to turn to Mark, wants to ask him _what-the-hell_ , but Mark’s hand digs deeper into his jacket and then they’re inside the school.

Mark slows down and lets them go when they’ve reached the nurses office, putting his hood up and facemask back on before Jackson can even catch his breath.

“Gyeom, let me see.” Mark speaks fast, the younger carefully putting his left hand forward.

“It’s not that bad,” he tries, then hisses when Mark slowly turns it over. BamBam curses quietly, and Jackson feels the need to join him. Yugyeom’s hand is red and blistered on the inside, some of the damage stretching until over his wrist. The boy is doing his best to blinks tears out of his eyes and Jackson’s anger mixes with heartache. Yugyeom really is the baby of the group, a force of laughter and mischief in all his fourteen-year-old glory. Seeing him reduced to holding in his tears makes Jackson feel sick.

“It’s bad,” he rasps, only to receive a warning glare from Mark. The reason why becomes obvious when BamBam pipes up hesitantly.

“It is?” His big eyes land on Jackson. “How bad?”

“It needs to be looked at,” Mark jumps in, then runs a hand over BamBam’s grey hair. “But it’s not that bad.”

Yugyeom manages a wobbly smile. “Wanna come with me?” he directs at BamBam to which the smaller boy nods eagerly. He holds the door open for Yugyeom, face white but eyes determined. Yugyeom gives Mark, and even Jackson for all the good he’s been, a last nod.

“Thank you.”

Jackson fumbles a smile as Mark gives Yugyeom a pat on his shoulder. Then the boys are gone, door closed in the suddenly quiet hallway. Something is radiating from Mark, only Jackson can’t figure out what or who it’s aimed at because he can’t see the other’s expression.

“What are you thinking about?” he eventually blurts when the silence becomes too much for him to handle. Mark jumps, shoes squeaking on the floor. Then he frowns.

“I’m thinking you need better preservation skills. Why would you bait Taewon like that?”

“Bait him? I barely spoke!”

“Jackson,” Mark says too calmly in Jackson’s opinion. “Taewon’s a wildcard. You need to stay off his radar.”

Jackson’s mood sours as he comes to the only logical conclusion. “Because I’m quirckless?”

“Don’t twist my words,” Mark snaps, then deflates. “Because everyone can burn,” he says softer. “And the last thing I want is you taking a hit that’s meant for me.”

“You do realize that’s contradictory, right?” he snarks back with less heat. “I mean, if everyone can burn than so can you. No matter who’s taking hits for who or not.”

Mark’s shoulders sag and he sighs, tired lines around his eyes when he looks up again. “Yes, but it won’t matter as much if it’s me. It’s not like people will see.”

“What!” Jackson shouts, stomach falling. He shoots out a hand, then barely stops himself from forcefully shaking Mark. The other stands calm in all his baggy-clothed glory and Jackson glares at him. “That’s bullshit.” Then the statement fully sinks in and he goes cold, suddenly feeling the urge to yank Mark’s mask down even though he knows it won’t do anything.

“Has he-” he stutters, hand vaguely hanging near Mark’s hood. “Are you- I mean, did he-”

“No, Jackson,” Mark saves him, plucking his hand out of the air and putting it back next to his side. “But I’m still the better option should it ever happen. So, _don’t_ do that again.”

“Like hell!” Jackson shouts at him, anger gearing up for real. “I doubt the others agree with this insane view of yours, and I’m sure as hell not okay with it!”

“Well I don’t need you to be!” Mark shouts back, his voice raised at Jackson for the first time since he’s known him. The surprise robs Jackson of his next words and Mark jabs a finger in his chest. “I just need you to _not_ do that again.”

Then he stalks off in the opposite direction, muttering under his breath. “This damn curse has to be good for something.”

* * *

_Curse._

The word won’t leave Jackson alone after he picked it up that day, Mark’s scathing voice dominating his thoughts. The other truly sees it as a curse? Not that Jackson thought he loved it what with Mark hiding his face most of the time, never wearing anything revealing and generally sticking to the shadows. But even in his worst nightmares he’d never thought that Mark would hate it _that much._ As proven by his display on the field, it _is_ useful, though in a somewhat strange, siren-alluring way.

Still, it’s much more than Jackson can do.

But hearing the word come from Mark makes him rethink everything, makes him pay more attention in the break and notice things he missed before. Things he doesn’t like in the slightest. People don’t just stare, they outright judge. Tongues licking lips and hungry eyes, much like Taewon’s, pop up more and more now that Jackson’s paying attention. It gets even worse outside of school, when they walk around town to get coffee or simply hang out. Despite Mark covering his face for most of it, people still turn their heads and some even stop to follow them for a bit.

It's at that time Jackson realizes that when they go outside of school, Jaebeom _does not_ leave Mark alone. Whatever the older boy wants to do, or not do, Jaebeom is always with him. After a week of imagining nothing but worst-case scenarios, Jackson decides to talk to Jinyoung about it. If anyone can give him answers without simply ignoring him, it’s the self-proclaimed mom-friend of their group.

He manages to get the other alone Tuesday after school. They’re trailing down a semi-busy street, a debate between BamBam and Youngjae the only thing keeping them from doing either coffee or ice-cream. Jackson tugs on Jinyoung’s arm and makes them fall back, grateful when the other understands and plays along. When they’re far enough away that Jackson’s sure the squabbling duo will drown out their conversation, he turns to a waiting Jinyoung.

“Mark hates his quirck,” he states without preamble. Jinyoung looks mildly impressed then nods.

“Obviously.”

Jackson yanks him closer, eyes narrowed. “How is that obvious!” he hisses, one eye on the rest of their friends. Jinyoung huffs.

“Because he doesn’t _like it?”_

“Yes, I get that,” Jackson counters agitatedly. “It’s annoying and confusing, but he literally said he doesn’t care if he gets _maimed_ by Taewon’s fire because people ‘can’t see’.” He uses air-quotes, pleased to note Jinyoung’s expression darkens.

“Oh,” his friend mutters, “that.”

Jackson lurches back, shock taking over. “That?” he flaps his hands quietly, stealing another glance at the front to make sure the rest are still unaware of their conversation. “What do you mean ‘that’?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, whispering. “Mark’s had a lot of bad experiences with his quirck,” he explains. “I mean, people literally cannot see what he looks like, which is already difficult enough, but then the whole ‘perfect type’ thing makes it all so much worse.”

The first part of that only now hits, Jackson realizing that things like a passport and possibly even pictures in general become problematic considering his quirck doesn’t transfer to photos. It clicks and he feels dumb, only now realizing why Mark doesn’t do selfies or group pictures, always huddled deep within his sweater when someone insists on one. Then he shakes his head.

“How do you mean ‘worse’,” he presses, not liking the sound of it but needing to know at the same time.

“You mean besides the constant unwanted attention and basic thirsty looks?”

Jackson nods resolutely and Jinyoung sighs. His expression goes soft, almost apologetic. “Jackson, think about it. He’s _everyone’s_ perfect type.”

Whatever Jinyoung’s hinting at, Jackson can’t grasp it and he huffs. “I _know_ that.”

“No, you don’t.” Jinyoung grabs his arm and whispers even softer. “His quirck changes his physical appearance to fit whatever the one looking wants to see most. So, imagine the one looking is a murderer.”

Jackson recoils, his arm snapping out of Jinyoung’s hold as he freezes on the sidewalk. The words echo in the sudden hollow of his stomach. “No,” he croaks, hands shaking. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with-”

“Yes, it does. Or at least, it can.” Jinyoung shushes him with a look, grabbing his shoulders as he watches their friends round a corner, then he turns back to Jackson with pleading eyes. “Mark doesn’t talk about this, he doesn’t even want to _think_ about it. The only reason he’s allowed out without protection is because his parents know he’s with _us_. Me and Jaebeom, we keep an eye on him, and Mark knows more martial arts and self-defense than anyone would know what to do with.” Jinyoung shakes him. “Jackson, the other three don’t know about this, at least, we’ve never told them,” he smiles ruefully. “You’re the first to ask, honestly.”

It's possibly a compliment or something to make Jackson feel better, but he can’t think past _murderer_. “Has someone every tried-” he gets stuck in his own thoughts, begging Jinyoung with his eyes to get it. The other grimaces, dropping his hands to stare at the sidewalk.

“There’ve been a few stalkers-”

Jackson chokes on air. “A _few?!”_

“But nothing more,” Jinyoung rushes. “It’s just, the possibility is there, but Mark’s careful. We all are.” He looks at Jackson. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answers honestly, his stomach roiling. “But I’m not the one being the ‘perfect type’ to _murderers.”_

Jinyoung groans. “Please don’t make me regret telling you.”

Jackson wants to tell him more, ask how the hell they all live with this gnawing fear in their veins, but then Yugyeom’s suddenly in front of them, grinning.

Jinyoung glares at him. “That’s dangerous out here, you could scare someone.”

“Watcha doing?” Yugyeom ignores him, and Jackson decides to accommodate Jinyoung’s little squeeze on his wrist.

“Discussing how best to tie you to a chair,” he blurts out. “We won’t be able to stay anywhere long enough to eat anything if you keep zipping all over the place and get us kicked out.”

Jinyoung laughs a little too heartily as they resume their walk, Yugyeom’s whining trailing behind them.

So, yeah.

_Curse._

* * *

Jinyoung wasn’t kidding about Mark knowing martial arts. Jackson doesn’t think he’ll get the image of Mark smiling and flying through the air out of his head for _years._

They’re at Mark’s house, lounging in the insanely large and neatly-kept backyard. Everyone is in swimming shorts, Youngjae and Jinyoung also opting for a T-shirt. For the first time in two months, Mark’s not wearing anything to cover his face, though he has a long-sleeved shirt and leggings along with his shorts.

Still. Mark showed a few tricks and spins on request, mostly from YugBam, and Jackson’s probably in need of a large glass of water. He’s no longer staring because he’s being pulled by some invisible force, but his eyes keep finding Mark anyway. The smile he could only ever wonder about is on full display, a surprising amount of teeth peeking out. Mark’s hair is darker when it’s wet, sticking up randomly as he keeps running his hand through it. Despite knowing the outside isn’t real, Jackson can’t help but think Mark’s gorgeous. After everything he’s learned about the boy, he’s convinced Mark doesn’t need his quirck to make people fall in love with him. He never has.

Because Youngjae can’t swim and Mark’s been hovering around their younger friend all day, even giving him a few swimming lessons when Youngjae asked to make him feel more comfortable. JJP keep sending Jackson _looks_ which means he’s being obvious, but he doesn’t want to stop, quirck be damned.

Jaebeom drops in the seat next to him a little while later when Jinyoung is refereeing YugBam’s water fight and Youngjae and Mark are playing with Milo nearer the house. Their laughter mingles and wraps around Jackson, his soul relaxing at the sound of it. (Also, Mark with Milo is a whole sight and Jackson’s heart is _weak.)_

“So,” Jaebeom starts jovially, then deadpans. “You do realize it’s not real.”

“Huh?” Jackson turns to him, tearing his eyes away from Milo nuzzling into Mark’s chest. “What?”

Jaebeom tips his head at the duo with Milo. “Mark,” he stresses. “Whatever you think you’re feeling, it’s not real.”

It hits a nerve, Jackson freezing as Jaebeom so tactlessly points out what he’s been doubting for weeks. “You don’t know that,” he counters defensively. “I know the physical aspect changes, but he’s still the same person.”

“Jackson,” Jaebeom groans. “Do I seriously have to explain hormones to you? The physical is what _attracts-”_

Jackson glares at him. “Stop.”

“Only if you stop making goo-goo eyes at him,” Jaebeom says firmly. “He’s got enough problems without his _friends_ salivating at him.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, Jackson, you are.” Jaebeom doesn’t glare but he gains his patented dad-look. “We’ve all had the infatuation phase, okay, we’ve all been there.”

Jackson resolutely turns his head to glare at the grass, a light breeze cool on his skin as the sun burns in the sky. His happy feeling is suddenly as distant as the giant star and he snaps.

“My feelings are invalid and you all know so much better. Great. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said!” Jaebeom hisses, leaning closer “Jackson, would you look at me-”

“You’re not actually my father,” he glares at Jaebeom, hurt and angry at the same time, floundering for something to throw at the other because it pains him to know Jaebeom’s right.

“Hey.” Mark interrupts what would have surely become something much louder and much more heated. He’s left Youngjae with Milo, face concerned as he approaches. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jaebeom lies easily, “we were just-”

“Apparently, I’m salivating over you,” Jackson cuts in harshly, crossing his arms over his bare chest and doing his damn best to appear unbothered when Mark’s face does something complicated that ends with him biting his lip.

“Dude!” Jaebeom yells, turning with narrowed eyes. “You can’t just-”

“I can’t do _anything_ it seems!” Jackson explodes, shooting up out of his chair with balled fist. Jaebeom gapes at him but Jackson can’t stop the hurt from pouring out. “I can’t do anything about Taewon possibly burning someone’s face off because I don’t have a quirck,” he ticks off a finger, “I can’t help out with Mark’s ‘curse’ because I _don’t have a quirck_ ,” he ticks off another one, Jaebeom’s face turning stormy as Mark stands stock-still. Jackson lets out a painful bark of laughter, ticking off a final finger. “And I can’t even _like_ Mark, in a completely hilarious twist of fate, because _he does_ have a quirck!”

Jaebeom jumps up, mouth open to no doubt scream right back, but Mark’s hand shoots out and yanks him back, breaking his focus. It’s in that second Jackson realizes he just said much more than he planned to, the others staring from their respective places in the backyard. All wear the same pained expression, but Jackson breaks when he sees the guilty grimace on Mark’s face. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like an accusation, but that’s exactly what he did.

“Shit,” he whispers, all the heat leaking out of his cheeks and pooling in his stomach. When Mark opens his mouth he panics. He races for the house, Mark and Jinyoung yelling at him to wait. Jackson doesn’t. He snatches his T-shirt from the couch, tripping into the hallway as he puts it on and stuffs his feet in his shoes. Then he’s out the door, running. He goes right on automatic. It takes at least three different turns for him to realize he doesn’t know where he's going. He stops suddenly, panting, and rests his hands on his knees.

_Shit._

Well, he royally messed that up. Not even mentioning the fact he left his phone on the kitchen table at Mark’s house meaning he has no way to figure out where he is or where he needs to go. He laughs humorlessly.

“Just perfect,” he groans scathingly, standing up and squinting at the sun. “Anything else I can fuck up today?” he snarks at the sky. A woman walking her dog on the other side of the street frowns at him and quickens her step, even the dog rushing to get away from Jackson.

He hangs his head as he sags in his skin. If even _dogs_ are running from you-

“Jackson!”

The shout makes him spin so fast the sidewalk blurs and sways, his feet fumbling to keep him standing. Then he’s blinking at a panting Mark, the other slowing to a jog until he’s standing a step or two away, chest heaving. “You’re fast,” Mark comments, out of breath.

Which he knows, because Jackson’s been told that by at least three different coaches. Then he wonders why Yugyeom wasn’t the one to follow him if they were so set on anyone doing it, especially since Mark is doing the universal stitch-in-my-side-give-me-a-minute pose. Then he wonders why Mark is wearing _another_ layer (a baggy T-shirt), until eventually he realizes Mark is standing on the sidewalk with nothing covering his face and the woman walking the dog is already doing a double-take.

_Murderers._

The thought shoots unbidden through his head, panic not far behind because Jaebeom is nowhere to be seen and Jackson is laughably quirckless.

“Wha-” he gapes, then does a panicked twirl. Three cars are about to pass them, another four pedestrians behind Jackson coming their way. He turns back to Mark, hands shooting out as if to cover the other’s face, then realizing what he almost did and snapping them back down again. Mark watches it all with a mildly confused eyebrow.

“Are you-” he starts questioningly, but Jackson cuts him off.

“What are you doing here!”

Mark looks more confused. “You just ran,” he says slowly with a no-duh expression.

“Yes,” Jackson hisses, keeping half an eye on passing cars. So far, no one seems to have any interest in kidnapping Mark yet. “I ran, and you followed,” he continues heatedly, “which, as you might not be aware, isn’t how this was supposed to go!” He gestures furiously between them, then almost jumps out of his skin when the people from behind walk past. Mark takes a polite step to the side, Jackson following with jitters exploding in his stomach. All of them look appreciatively at Mark, but none stop.

Crisis averted.

Mark is starting to look concerned again, brow furrowing at the hurried hand Jackson runs through his hair. The other’s level of blasé is only making Jackson’s nerves worse.

“Shouldn’t Jaebeom be with you!?”

Mark snorts. “What?”

“You!” Jackson shouts, throwing his arms out. “You’re here! And-” he cuts himself off. Mark shakes his head at him.

“And what? Jackson, I wanted to talk about what-”

“Murderers!” Jackson blurts out, then groans into his hands at Mark’s shocked expression. He’d basically promised Jinyoung not to bring this topic up around Mark. Then again, today just seems to be one of those days where he fucks everything up. So, why not this too?

“Ah,” Mark responds, face falling. Jackson would very much like to teleport right about now. After a painful silence, Mark huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. Then he looks at Jackson, a soft and sincere smile on his face. It’s an unfamiliar sight and Jackson goes weak in the knees, then sternly reminds himself it isn’t real nor fair on Mark.

“First rule of being my friend,” Mark says with a smile. “Don’t listen to JJP. They worry more than my parents, which is really saying something.” He snorts. “They take the whole mom/dad-friend to another level.”

Jackson shakily nods, still shooting glances around and forever grateful Mark lives in a quiet neighborhood.

Mark sighs. “No one is going to jump out and _attack_ me, you know-”

“How do you know,” Jackson says desperately, getting worked up without any chance of a release meaning the nerves come out in large gestures and fast words. “You’re everyone’s perfect type which means mine as well and I _fucked up_ and so we’re standing here, _you’re_ standing here, without Jaebeom or Jinyoung or anyone remotely useful! It’s just _me!”_

“I’m fine!” Mark raises his voice, hands shooting out to trap Jackson’s arms, keeping him from flapping like an overactive seagull. His gaze is heated, lips downturned. “I’m not helpless, Jackson!”

“Well I am!” He screams, fear bursting like a balloon and shooting out into Mark’s shocked face. “And if anything were to happen to you then I’m the most helpless idiot to be around!”

Mark takes a shocked step back, his painful grip falling away, and Jackson hates how he misses it instantly. They stand in silence, Jackson wrestling his heartrate into something normal as he dreads Mark’s reaction.

“You’re not useless,” Mark grinds out after too many heavy breaths. He grabs a hold of Jacksons left wrist, fingers digging in. His face is set, jaw tensed. “We’re gonna go back to my place and _talk about this_. Okay?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand seeing as he immediately turns around and yanks Jackson with him. When he hasn’t let go yet after a few steps Jackson clears his throat, both drained and tense from emotions.

“You don’t have to drag me,” he says hoarse, remembering how Mark hardly ever touches anyone, actively shying away from other people touching _him._

Mark’s shoulders tense more, his voice terse. “I’m not having you run off again.”

“I won’t,” Jackson promises. Regardless, Mark keeps his hold all the way, keeping up a quick march when people stare at them. As much as Jackson dreads going back to Mark’s and facing the others, he’ll do just about anything so long as it gets Mark off the streets. Mark’s free hand is trembling and he’s almost unconsciously ducking his head as they walk. Jackson gulps, a lump in his throat. It’s clear Mark isn’t as comfortable outside as he pretends to be for Jackson’s sake, and all it does is make him worse because Mark’s never this scared when he’s with Jaebeom.

They make it back in what feels like a minute, and Mark doesn’t even let go as he drags him inside, his grip tightening when Jackson tries to stop in the living room. Jaebeom and Jinyoung are pacing around outside, the other three sitting on chairs and looking in wide-eyed confusion at their ‘parents’.

“Wait,” Jackson tries, but Mark keeps pulling relentlessly.

“Jaebeom owes you an apology, and you owe him one,” he says clipped. “My quirck is _not_ going to be the reason you two mess up your friendship, understand.”

Then they’re outside, Jackson wanting to shrink behind Mark but knowing it’s impossible with how much muscle he has on him. Then he wonders for a split-second if the real Mark has more muscle than the scrawny dude Jackson is imagining because it would explain why his grip is so strong. Jaebeom’s stormy face makes the thought moot in an instant.

Jackson grimaces, expecting a whole monologue aimed at how he’s irresponsible and quite possibly a horrible person, despite Mark’s insistence on ‘apologizing’, but neither of their predictions come true.

All five of their friends freeze, then frown, and BamBam is the first to point at Mark, voice high and confused. “Who are _you!”_

Mark stops and glares at BamBam, still holding Jackson in place by his arm. “Hilarious, Bam.”

Yugyeom’s eyebrows shoot up. _“Mark?!”_

“Yes,” Mark rolls his eyes. “This isn’t the time for jokes, guys.”

“No, but,” Jinyoung steps forward, eyes wider than Jackson’s ever seen them and he thinks they’re all wonderful actors. He sneaks a glance at Jaebeom, only to feel out of the loop when Jaebeom is gawking at Mark as much at the others, eyes clearly visible for once.

“Your hair is blond!” Jaebeom says, shocked.

Mark rolls his eyes. “Yes, brilliant observa-” he snaps his mouth shut, blinking at Jaebeom. “Wait, how do you know that? I thought you see me with black hair?”

“It _is_ blond,” Jinyoung adds, dumbfounded. “And sort of frizzy and wavy, also-” he points a slack hand at Mark’s face. “Your eyes are black. I mean, your whole _face_ is different.”

Now Jackson _knows_ they’re pranking them and he snorts when Youngjae shouts a loud affirmative, the younger adding Mark no longer has a piercing in his nose.

“Guys,” he huffs, “what are you doing?”

“You all see me as blond?” Mark asks faintly from his side and Jackson knows he’s missing _something_ when his friend looks white enough to pass out.

“Mark,” he starts, but gets ignored when Mark finally lets him go, stepping toward Jinyoung, voice suddenly shaking with excitement.

“What exactly do I look like?!

Yugyeom screams the loudest, all of their friends flinching. Jackson jumps as well, levelling them all with a glare.

“Guys, seriously!” he shouts. “What’s with all the theatrics?”

Jaebeom shoots him a wide-eyed look, one hand pointing firmly at Mark. “He has black hair again!”

Mark sucks in a breath, blinking rapidly.

Jackson snorts. “Uhm, no?”

“Mark,” Jinyoung steps forward. “What did you just do?”

The older shakes his head, mouth opening and closing without any sound.

“You were different!” Youngjae yells, jumping in place. “You had blond hair and we all saw it!” His smile is out of place next to Mark’s crestfallen face and Jackson steps in. This joke has gone far enough.

“Stop it!” he yells incredulously. “Whatever this is, you’re taking it too far!”

“Jackson, shush,” Jinyoung tells him distractedly, never taking his eyes off Mark. Jackson gapes, unable to keep up with his friend’s mood swings.

“Did you just-” he stutters, only for Jinyoung to completely waltz over him.

“Whatever you just did,” he tells Mark, “can you do it again? I think you were actually controlling your quirck.”

Mark shakes his head, face still white and looking five years younger. “I wasn’t doing anything. You know I can’t control it. I mean-” his eyes flit to Jackson. “Did you see me different?”

Jackson hates dashing the precarious hope in Mark’s voice, but he sadly shakes his head, turning a glare on Jinyoung when Mark huffs sadly.

“This isn’t _funny,”_ he growls.

Jinyoung blinks at him, silently, as the others all shout at once.

“We’re not lying!”

“You were different!”

“The piercing just, _came back!”_

“It changed!” Jaebeom states firmly, cutting off the chaos as he takes a step forward. Mark watches him with wide eyes. “I wouldn’t lie, not about this. You changed. I don’t know why but-”

Jinyoung gasps, face donning a eureka smile and he snaps his eyes at Jackson. “You!” he yells triumphantly.

Jackson opens his mouth, closes it. All eyes turn to him and he throws his hands in the air. “Me, what!”

Without explaining, Jinyoung shoots forward, grabbing Mark’s hand and clamping it down on Jackson’s bare arm.

“Woah!” Youngjae screams. “It happened again! He’s blond again!”

Jackson switches between all their faces, ending with Mark and seeing the older is as confused as he feels.

“He’s always been blond,” he tells them. Jinyoung grabs his other arm and Jackson flinches. “What are you-”

“Testing,” Jinyoung says, eyes focused on an empty chair.

Mark’s voice is faint as he glances around Jackson. “Jinyoung, what’s going on?”

“I can’t make it levitate,” Jinyoung says with a hint of wonder. He lets go of Jackson, the chair gently floating into the air as he does. A faint laugh comes out, Jinyoung grabbing Jackson’s arm again. The chair clatters to the ground.

Jackson can’t take it anymore, too many wide-eyed faces staring at him and Mark. “What the hell!”

“I can’t use my quirck,” Jinyoung drops his hand from Jackson’s arm and turns to face him, expression full of wonder. “When I touch you, my quirck’s gone.” His gaze falls to where Mark is still holding Jackson. “So when Mark touches you, his quirck …”

Impossible. Jackson shakes his head, disbelief ringing out in a little laugh. “That doesn’t exist,” he counters. “And even if it did, I’m _quirckless_. I mean, what you’re describing-”

“You don’t seem to be doing it consciously,” Jinyoung murmurs. “It’s a lot like Mark’s quirck, but still different.”

“Holy shit,” BamBam breathes. “Jackson can negate quircks?”

Jaebeom hums thoughtfully, all of them ignoring Jackson’s relatively sound concerns. “Seems like it.”

“Guys,” Jackson tries again, but this time it’s Mark who interrupts him, springing into action and racing back inside to all of their confusion.

“Mark!” Jinyoung calls out concerned, but the other is back within two seconds, pressing a phone in Jinyoung’s hands.

“Take a picture of me,” he demands with a smile, eyes continuously straying to Jackson.

Jackson’s never felt more confused. There’s no _way_ he has a quirck, much less one that negates other quircks. “Maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up,” he says carefully, but Jinyoung’s shaking his head, already putting the phone up.

“We know what we saw, and _I_ know what I felt. You’re different Jackson,” he tells him confidently, snapping a quick picture of Mark at the same time. For someone who hates the click of the camera, Mark’s unable to stop smiling. Jackson loves seeing it, but he’s scared reality will be all the harsher because of it.

“But maybe we should-”

Jinyoung lets out a triumphant shout, shoving the phone in Jaebeom’s face. “This is what you saw, right!”

Jaebeom grins wide, twinkling eyes shooting to Mark. “You still look good, you know.”

The others run up as well, Youngjae lamenting the loss of the piercing, but also confirming that Mark looks great in all his blond-haired, small-faced glory. The boy in question is near tears, a smile so wide splitting his face Jackson fears he might hurt himself. As for Jackson, he’s the one feeling faint and floaty now. Because if they’re all gushing about Mark’s quirck being _gone_ when the older touches Jackson, then …

“I have a quirck?” he says softly, eyes straying to Jinyoung and begging him not to lie. He can’t take any false hope right now. BamBam is the one to answer, shoving the phone in Jackson’s hands.

“See for yourself!” he shouts merrily, hanging on Jackson’s shoulder and keeping his eyes glued to the screen. “He looks so _weird!_ Good weird, but still.”

Jackson holds his breath as he looks down, not noticing Mark doing the same thing as the older slowly walks closer. The picture indeed shows Mark, his blinding smile frozen on the screen and his hands nervously plucking at the elastic of his shorts. Then Jackson realizes the mistake and he sighs, glaring at Jingyoung and Jaebeom.

“It’s Mark,” he grouches. “There’s nothing different about him.”

He almost throws the phone at them, aware he messed things up before but spiteful all the same. He’s been quirckless for seventeen years already, and this stupid hope is just plain cruel. BamBam snatches the phone away before he can break it, sending Jackson the mother of all confused looks.

“Of course, it’s Mark,” the boy says high-pitched. “But he looks _different.”_

“No, he doesn’t” Jackson shouts. He runs a hand through his hair, blinking away tears. He’s not sure whether they’re for him or for Mark, but this whole farce is painful all the same.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom says carefully. “The picture _has_ to be different, whether you have a negation quirck or not. Mark’s quirck doesn’t transfer to photos.”

Which, as Jackson yanks the phone out of BamBam’s hands again, he’d completely forgotten about. The puzzle only becomes more complicated when he looks at it again, then glances up to face a mouth-agape, stunned Mark. Both the picture and real life look exactly the same; blond, frizzy hair, dark eyes, cheekbones Jackson wants to kiss, and a slim figure. His words lag, cogs turning too fast in his brain.

“But it’s the same,” he eventually manages to croak, desperately turning to Jinyoung and Jaebeom for answers. “It’s Mark. _My_ Mark, my perfect version of- it’s-” he looks at the phone again. “They’re exactly the same.”

Even the breeze dies down in the following silence, nothing but distant birdcalls in the air.

Jinyoung whistles lowly. “Holy shit.”

A hand comes to take the phone away, Jackson shaking as he recognizes it as Mark’s, but _his_ Mark. It’s the same slim, sun-kissed and gorgeous Mark who Jackson saw on his first day. It’s not the real Mark, not _really_ , except that the picture is also his Mark and that shouldn’t be possible because everyone else sees something that isn’t there and the picture is what _is_ there.

“But it’s not real,” he says when he looks up. Mark’s right in front of him, tears glistening on his cheeks and smile blinding.

“I look the same as the picture?” he asks breathlessly.

Jackson nods, out of words and at a loss.

Mark bites his lip, a shy hand coming up to hold Jackson’s neck. “I’ve always looked like that? Like _this?”_

“Well, yeah,” Jackson keeps getting lost in Mark’s smile and his eyes and he shakes his head to get back on track. “But your quirck-” Suddenly Mark’s hugging him, arms tight around Jackson’s shoulders and a high laugh in his ear.

“You see me,” Mark whispers full of wonder, squeezing tighter as his laugh goes unsteady with tears. “You actually see _me.”_

Jackson brings his arms up slowly, holding Mark loosely and resisting the urge to push his nose in the other’s damp locks. He finds Jinyoung’s eyes. “I don’t see his quirck?” he wonders. “But I can still see yours, or like, BamBam’s?”

Jinyoung’s already shaking his head, the rest all smiling, Youngjae screaming soundlessly into Jaebeom’s shoulder out of what seems to be pure joy.

“It still affected you, remember?” Jinyoung says with a wide grin. “You felt the pull like all of us, it’s just, your perfect type is _Mark.”_ Here Jinyoung shares a meaningful look with Jaebeom and their resident dad sighs deeply.

“Yes, okay, I’m sorry, Jackson,” he says somewhat petulantly. “I was wrong about what I said before.”

Jackson barely remembers what he said before but he nods anyway, enjoying Mark’s arms around him too much to make a big deal out of anything. “So, my version is real?” he confirms one last time, and Mark giggles into his shoulder.

“Yes,” the older answers muffled. “I don’t know why, but yes.”

“Because you’re gorgeous,” Jackson says with a snort, then colors as the words sink in. Jaebeom and Jinyoung roll their eyes, the younger ones cackling in unison. Mark simply breathes onto Jackson’s neck, warm puffs of air tickling his skin. Then the older boy whispers with a grin.

“I’ve never told anyone this, mainly because I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea, but Jackson … you’re really fucking _hot.”_

Jackson goes maroon, he’s sure of it. Hiding his face in Mark’s neck doesn’t stop Jinyoung from laughing and Mark giggles as well, arms never letting go.

(After that, Mark always has twenty different excuses to hold Jackson’s hand wherever they go, until they both decide on just the one.

Because boyfriends get to hold hands as much as they like, don’t they?)


End file.
